The idea behind this is so powerful - that the young black boys who are murdered as a result of racism are stuck as ghosts, just lingering on together through the generations. There's a particular moment (and I'm trying not to spoil it) where the imagery of this becomes really plain, and it's the central image of the book, I think - certainly the part of it I'll remember above the rest. Twelve year old Jerome is one of the ghost boys. The book begins with him being shot by a cop while outside playing, and it follows him from then on, watching his family grieve and the investigation into the officer that shot him... and may I say, the part of me that didn't expect the eventual verdict is clearly the part that needs to read more books like this.

One of Rhodes' more interesting choices had Jerome making friends with the only living person who can see him: the twelve year old daughter of the police officer that killed him. Sarah is living the consequences of her father's actions, torn between her love for him and her slow discovery of the racism that caused him to shoot a black child in the back. It's horrible for her, and she's just a child and it's not her fault either, but I still winced every time Jerome apologised for snapping at her. As for Sarah's father, well... Rhodes manages, I'm not sure how, to extend some empathy to him as well which is more than I'd be inclined to do. If it were me writing this book he'd have ended up in jail, but then again that seems like the kind of wishful thinking that only people like me can afford to indulge in, frankly.